balls

Do you guys remember the post I made about the little hell-child that roams my neighborhood? The one that I forced to take a swim in dog-poop-soup in my backyard? (Jesus, if you have no idea what I’m talking about, I probably sound like the worst human being there is.) THE KID HAD IT COMING, OKAY? I’m not a monster.

If you don’t feel like clicking the link, I’ll give you a fast overview. There’s a middle-school kid who roams our cul-de-sac and has no respect for anybody’s property. He walks in unlocked houses. Goes through cars. Jumps fences and tramples on flowers. Has left chip bags and other trash in yards. The worst thing about all of it – his parents don’t give a crap no matter how many people complain about it. The kid is the spawn of Satan. Seriously. Pretty sure his mother is Satan’s side bitch.

Now that we’re caught up.

We lost power for a short time last night during a heavy thunderstorm. Usually I like storms, but when the power cuts in the middle of the night and I’m suddenly sitting there in the dark only able to hear my cat slowly licking her ass, things get creepy for me. Here’s the following series of events:

*Front door randomly opens and a rain-soaked person walks right into our house*

At this point, I was 100% sure this guy was, in fact, here to murder us. So I did what every classy woman would = aimed for his nuts. I ran up, while screaming like a banshee, and punted as hard as I could before shoving the person back out the door. Alex grabbed a flashlight and, lo and behold, neighbor boy was clutching himself as he ran away.

Yep. I kicked an 11-year-old in the balls last night. I’m not sure I should find this as humorous as I do. Maybe I AM a monster. I’ve got a first-class seat on the ride to hell. Who’s joining me?